


midnight bookshop run

by theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)



Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst Lite™, Assurances, Aziraphale Has A Panic Attack, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley has a nightmare, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, For some reason they still live apart, M/M, Relationship Issues, Snuggling, They both have an important conversation, bed sharing, damn it, fluff all the way, impromptu visit, why don’t they just move in already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 09:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm
Summary: What do you when you wake up from a nightmare and you can’t go back to sleep? Go bother your boyfriend, of course.





	midnight bookshop run

**Author's Note:**

> This series was originally formatted as a ‘one work, multiple chapters/stories’ fic collection, but I decided to split them up so each story gets tagged appropriately and gets a fair amount of attention. Not to sound like a 2000s YouTuber but I hope you subscribe to the series cause i have a lot of different stories in the pipeline!

It was at the eleventh hour, literally, when Crowley showed up unexpectedly at the door of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

The angel himself had just had to put down a particularly engrossing book and a warm mug of tea to answer the door. He was miffed at being interrupted, but seeing as there could be only one person who would come at such an hour (also, the familiar rumble of the Bentley’s engine was a dead giveaway), tried to be more accommodating. It was his boyfriend, after all.

His hair was a lazy mess, and Aziraphale could tell he had flung on his blazer over what could only be a pair of black pyjamas. His yellow eyes were still slightly bleary as he grinned at Aziraphale and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” said Aziraphale, with a welcoming smile. “And to what do I owe this honour?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” said Crowley lightly.

Aziraphale scoffed. “You couldn’t sleep?” That was impossible. Crowley loved sleeping, as evidenced by the long nap he had once taken.

“Well, I _was_ sleeping, but then I woke up,” Crowley said, “and I- I couldn’t go back to sleep again, so I thought, Hey, let’s go bother Angel.” He beamed. “‘Cause you don’t sleep, do you?”

“Not regularly,” Aziraphale admitted. Not counting the times he’d dozed off in Crowley’s arms in front of the fireplace. Not counting the times he’d fallen asleep in bed next to him after...well. “You know you’re always welcome here, in any case. Come in- unless you want us to go somewhere?”

Always on the move, that demon. But this time he said, “No, I’ll come in.”

Aziraphale shut the door behind Crowley. He noticed he was still wearing a pair of bedroom slippers.

“Cup of tea?”

“I- er, yeah, sure.”

There was something odd and shifty about Crowley, Aziraphale thought as he went into the kitchenette to make them drinks- a new cup for Crowley, a top up for himself. He came out into the back room to find Crowley already sitting, or rather, splayed out, on the sofa.

“Ah,” he said, seeing Aziraphale come in, and his face lit up. Aziraphale felt it rolling off him in a wave then; a sudden rush of gratitude, the now-familiar feeling of affection the demon held for him, and something else. Something like relief, the knowledge that he was safe here.

Aziraphale handed the cup and saucer to Crowley before seating himself next to him. He watched Crowley take a sip without blowing on the surface, the piping hot tea having no effect on his tongue. He looked up as the angel tilted his head curiously.

“What?”

“Is everything quite all right, Crowley?” Aziraphale said gently.

He caught the slightest flash of uncertainty in the demon’s answering smile. “Everything’s fine. Jolly good, as you’d say. Why?”

“_Crowley_,” said Aziraphale firmly. That tone of voice always made Crowley sit up a little straighter, aware that the angel would be taking no more bullshit, thank you very much. “Really. I know you well enough to tell when something is wrong- and to know when you’re _avoiding_ it.”

“Should have known you were too clever, Angel,” mumbled Crowley, setting his cup down.

“So what’s going on, then?” Aziraphale said. He instinctively reached out to rub Crowley’s back reassuringly, like he was searching for the wings tucked somewhere underneath the skin.

Crowley sighed, the breath unsteadily escaping. Aziraphale could feel his shoulders slacken already, starting to relax. Finally he said, “I...had a nightmare. About Falling.”

Aziraphale stared, eyes wide. “Falling. With a capital F?”

“Capital F,” agreed Crowley.

“Oh, my poor dear,” sighed Aziraphale. Crowley nodded helplessly, reached for the tea and emptied it in one gulp. Aziraphale waited for him to finish before saying, “But angels and demons don’t dream. This is a memory.”

“Whatever it is, it sucks,” mumbled Crowley. Then his mouth pulled into a grimace as he put the teacup down and said “Don’t you have anything stronger?”

“When was the last time you, you know, remembered?” Aziraphale said, ignoring Crowley’s attempt to redirect the conversation.

“It’s not the kind of thing you forget, Aziraphale.”

“But have you had this nightmare before?”

“Last time was in ‘95.” Crowley paused. “Yeah, I remember. Woke up in a cold sweat, got in the car and just...drove.” He grinned, remembering, “I stopped at that theatre I like and saw Toy Story. But this is better.”

Aziraphale pressed closer, putting one arm around Crowley. He let the demon rest his head on his shoulder, shutting those yellow eyes tight to rid himself of whatever fear had lingered from the dream. They leaned back on the couch together and silence fell.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one,” Crowley finally murmured, muffled against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m the only demon who has this dream.”

“Well, I always knew you were special,” chuckled Aziraphale. He pressed a kiss against the delicate tattoo on the side of Crowley’s face. Oh, Crowley liked that, he loved it. He’d been kicked out of Heaven and was no longer wanted in Hell, but he was damn sure that he belonged here- with Aziraphale.

“You can stay as long as you like,” said Aziraphale, and with a tiny jerk of his head toward the very back of the shop, said, “Shall I relocate us somewhere more comfortable?”

Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed, puzzled; “Since when did you have a bedroom?”

“Since now, dear boy.”

Ah, thank Someone for miracles.

The room was just as cozy as the rest of the bookshop, newly-formed into existence from the most basic bits of Aziraphale’s imagination; so there were billowy curtains and a soft patchwork quilt and comfy pillows, and a night lamp on an antique nightstand shaped like a duck. Crowley grinned at it before sprawling all over the mattress and getting comfortable.

“Scoot,” said Aziraphale, making a ‘move over’ gesture with his hands at Crowley.

“Ooh, I’m loving this, Angel,” chuckled Crowley as he made space.

“Hush. The bed at your place can be for...other things, but at my place, it is strictly for post-nightmare therapeutic cuddling,” tittered Aziraphale as he climbed in and pulled the quilt over them. He beamed at Crowley, “All right?”

“If you say so.” The demon snuggled down, head on Aziraphale’s chest. “Thanks, Angel. Feeling better already.”

“D’you think you’ll have the dream again if you go to sleep here?” Aziraphale said anxiously.

“Dunno,” mumbled Crowley. He certainly hadn’t thought that far ahead. “But if I do, at least I won’t be by myself.”

“And you never have to be, my love,” Aziraphale whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“You know, you are so funny,” mumbled Crowley, still trying to make conversation even when words should be running out. It was late, after all. “You only sleep when you’re with me.” He was already sounding drowsy, their arms wrapping around each other comfortably.

“Yes. Funny, that,” said Aziraphale, eyes closing. “I once...read it in a book, I think...psychology...you sleep better with your partner...because you feel safe...”

Crowley’s weight was warm and reassuring against him. The whole room was suddenly warm.

That was because it was loved.

* * *

It was noticeably colder when Aziraphale woke some hours later. The duck lamp had turned itself off and the room was dark, and he suddenly found himself filled with dread; not at the darkness that surrounded him, but the fact that he was alone in bed.

Especially since he was _certain_ he’d fallen asleep next to Crowley.

Panic rose rapidly in Aziraphale’s chest. He sat up, lungs tight, the already darkened room blurring around him as his mind reeled. There were two things he knew. The space on the bed was empty, and it hadn’t been before.

As anyone who’s ever had an anxiety attack before can tell you, the mind- human or celestial- can have a tendency to slide toward the most awful thought possible, disabling any form of logic or reasoning. That was what happened to Aziraphale now, his mind sliding down into a dizzying spiral of thoughts he wished he wasn’t thinking. _He’s gone, he’s left, he was here but now he’s not, after everything I did, I should have known he’d get up and go the moment he started feeling better, this isn’t like him- but why shouldn’t it be? He’s still a demon, a selfish ungrateful demon, one of the few times I let myself go to sleep and I wake up and he’s GONE like a bad one-night stand, he left he left he left helefthelfthe-_

The door creaked open, letting in some light and casting a familiar silhouette in the entrance. “Oh, did I wake you?”

Aziraphale instantly relaxed at the sound of Crowley’s voice. The rush suddenly subsided, his breathing and sight returning to normal. He focused on Crowley- long and lean, eyes like twin suns in the darkness. He was holding a glass of water.

The demon tilted his head curiously, placed the glass on the nightstand (the duck lamp, rather helpfully, switched itself back on and flooded the room with warm amber light) and loped back into bed. “Everything okay, Angel?”

Aziraphale managed an unsteady smile. “Yes. Jolly good.” Could Crowley hear the tremble in his voice?

“Yeah, no. You don’t look jolly good,” said Crowley shortly. “Anyway, I’ve already used that excuse tonight.”

“I thought you’d gone,” said Aziraphale in a small voice. He hadn’t meant to tell the truth, but really, ever since ‘I gave it away,’ he’d always had a hard time lying to the demon.

“Yeah, I have gone, just to have a look at- oh,” Crowley’s eyes went wide. “You mean, _gone_ gone.”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley said, incredulously, “And why do you think I’d do something like that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “You almost did once before, didn’t you?”

Crowley’s mouth actually fell open. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even manage one of his adorable little stutters.

“Alpha Centauri,” he finally said.

“Yes.”

Aziraphale regretted it then, regretted everything, when he saw the way Crowley’s face fell, the way he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve apologised for that, haven’t I?”

“I know.”

“And you said you forgive me.”

“I do,” said Aziraphale pathetically, “but when I woke up just now, and you weren’t there...it was all I could think.” He shook his head, “Oh Crowley, I’m sorry. What kind of an angel am I, lacking faith in the person I love the most?”

That at least brought a chuckle to Crowley’s lips, and an almost unbearable fondness in those sundrop eyes of his. “Aziraphale...” His voice was all tenderness and tease. “We’re a funny pair, letting stuff like this keep us up at night.” He reached out for Aziraphale’s hand. “But let’s make a new deal, eh? I promise- demon’s honor, or whatever I have that qualifies as such- to never, ever, _ever_\- “ and here his voice went high-pitched, indicating that he was getting carried away- “leave you. And you promise to catch me when I fall.” Crowley pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s hand, keeping his eyes fixed on the angel. “Agreed?”

Aziraphale exhaled in relief. “Agreed.”

“Yay,” said Crowley, with a delighted smile. He leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale on the lips, and just like that, everything was right again.

Aziraphale broke away, and swatted Crowley’s arm with the back of his hand. “You did give me a fright, though. Why couldn’t you have miracled a glass of water right here?!”

“Ow,” said Crowley, more surprised than hurt. “If you must know, I actually went out to check on the Bentley- make sure she’d moved somewhere safe- and on the way back I thought I’d have something to drink—“

“You left in the middle of the night to check up on your car,” said Aziraphale flatly.

“Well, yeah,” said Crowley, as one might say ‘duh,’ “I have _some_ sense of responsibility, you know.”

Aziraphale laughed, his shoulders doing that tiny wiggle they did. “Are we all good now?” Crowley asked hopefully, sliding back under the quilt next to him.

This time it was Aziraphale’s turn to rest his head on Crowley’s chest. “All good,” he assured.

“I’m right here, Angel,” Slender hands stroked the curls of his hair, the fabric of his sleeve.

Aziraphale shut his eyes contentedly against the steady beat of Crowley’s heart. “And so am I, darling.”


End file.
